Reid@YWP

Tendrils of anxiety 

Snake out 

And trap me 

Opening a hole 

Where my brain 

Goes down 

Finding everything 

That could go wrong 

A new crack in me

Four corners set each way, 
And I still sit in the box. 
The left could sin me, 
Right could win me, 
Front or back could block. 
I could become a famous tool, 
Or infamously triumph, 

Sometimes the drive home 
is just too good to end. 
The darkness envelops 
the road ahead, 
the road behind, 
the fields of either side. 
Nothing can reach me here.  

Those who are lost 

have forgotten 

the body does not stop or start at the skin, 

but continues to be one being. 

Aging is such a hard concept to get your head around. The world moves, and sometimes it’s easy to forget that you do too, in ways that are impossible to see or fully understand.